


I Can't Reach You

by heyheyheywhatcanid0



Category: The Who (Band)
Genre: And god bless Heather, Angst, Bittersweet, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Roger is :(, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:55:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26377645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyheyheywhatcanid0/pseuds/heyheyheywhatcanid0
Relationships: Heather Daltrey/Roger Daltrey
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	I Can't Reach You

It was a lovely day.

The sun was hanging in the sky, tinted in shades of blue, adorned with white, fluffy clouds.

The little critters that lived close to their house ran to their tries, nests and rabbit holes, to hide from the predators. It was getting darker, believe it or not.

The flowers breathed the cold air, as the grass brushed their stems.

The two dogs, now inside the house, sat in their cushion beds, yawned from exhaustion and closed their eyes.

Meanwhile, the frontman of The Who, was laying in his bed.

Crying. 

He wasn't like Pete. Tall and lanky, stubborn and smart, lovely smile but terrible attitude. 

He wasn't like John. Nicely built and chubby, mysterious but attractive, but at the same time silent and tiring when he didn't do anything but just roll his eyes.

He wasn't like Keith. The fan favorite, tiny and adorable, a troublemaker but with an inexplicable charm.

He didn't want to be like them.

But at the same time, he desired to be as smart as Pete, as mysterious as John and as loveable as Keith.

He was the fucking singer.

He had straw like hair, was small in weight and height, and sometimes would say things without thinking first.

He thought he looked like a fucking scarecrow.

They were all repulsed by him, instead of being scared.

His girlfriend, Heather, didn't think the same.  
She thought Roger had his heart always in the right place, he just didn't think before he could speak. But she loved him anyways.  
He was honest with her, respected her, loved her, and even sang to her before falling asleep.

She felt loved by him. She thinks he's an angel that fell on earth.

But he won't listen.

After reading a book downstairs, she stood up and started to go to the upper floor, after hearing muffled crying. 

She went to their room, and didn't say a word.

She glanced at her boyfriend laying down on the bed, crying his soul out.

The model sat by his side and rubbed his back.

"Rog..." She cooed.

He sniffed and sobbed a little in response.

"Will you tell me what's wrong?" She asked softly, wanting to help him.

"I'm not like them. I'm no good. I'm the singer yet I look like a bloody scarecrow! It would've been better if I didn't grow out my curls!" He ranted, not even looking at her as tears flooded from his eyes.

"Rog..." She tried to interrupt him as Heather brushed his hair.

"I would've been prettier if I used that stupid gel!" 

"Roger..." 

"If I would've never had that stupid jaw accident I would be different!" 

"Roger."

"It would've been so fucking great if I-"

"Roger!" She finally snapped at him, upset by his negativity.

He started to weep again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." He yelped.

"You don't have to! Dear god Roger!" She answered to his rant. 

He sat down and looked at her with watery, red eyes from crying.

His eyes were puffy, the top of his nose red from weeping, and his beautiful blonde locks were messy. 

"What happened?" Heather asked as she pulled him into a hug.

He sniffed and hugged her back, looking down. "I'm a disgrace to the human race... And to my bandmates and the music business too..." He vented to her.

"You're not a disgrace to me... Look at me." She told him. She broke the hug and stretched her arms, placing her hands in his shoulders, so that he could face her. "You are not and will never be a disappointment to me. Neither to your bandmates and friends. In fact I bet that Pete worries a lot about you, doesn't he?" She asked him. 

Roger rolled his eyes and glanced at her again. "No, well, he doesn't show it too much..." He answered to her shyly.

"Maybe he doesn't like showing his emotions a lot, and that's okay too, you need to understand it." 

Roger nodded and looked down, brushing his arm. 

"Hey," she cupped his face with her hand and brushed his red cheek. "It's alright. Is there something else going on?" 

"I'll never be like Mick Jagger..." 

"What?" She asked, squinting at him after hearing something so stupid. 

He glanced at her and looked away. 

"You don't have to be like him dear god! You're Roger, and he's Mick. Okay? You're different than him in many, many ways... And you know what? You don't treat me the way he treats Marianne, do you?" 

"No..." He squeaked in response of her explanation. 

"See? Come here, let's go to the garden." She brushed his hand and stood up alongside him, as they both went downstairs and up to their garden in their country house. 

Roger went directly to a tiny lake, and layed down in the grass, staring at the crystal clear water that shone thanks to the sunlight.

He closed his eyes, as he listened to the sound of the wind, the birds chirping and the grass.

Heather looked at the ethereal picture, but got inside, searching for a camera and a pocket mirror.

Then, she sat by his side, and glanced at him.

His arms were crossed, as he rested his head in them. His tiny eyelashes were noticeable as his eyes were closed, and the wind fanned his face.

She found tiny, yellow flowers under her skirt, and came up with an idea.

Heather stood up and found tulips, daisies, tiny cream coloured flowers, roses and lilies. 

She sat alongside him again, and pulled softly from one of his curls, putting one of the flowers between the space that was in his golden locks.

She did this with the top of his head to the bottom, eventually decorating his hair with a wide variety of yellow toned flowers.

Then she squealed, he looked so good. 

The actress grabbed her camera and snapped a photo.

Roger crossed his eyebrows as he sat down, and looked at the red haired girl staring at the photo.

"What did you do?" He asked groggily. 

She looked up to her boyfriend and blushed. "Oh." She stammered. She gave him the pocket sized mirror, and looked at his reaction.

He stared at his own reflection, blushing some of the curls that didn't have any flowers. He glanced in awe at himself. He looked so beautiful, and angelic.

And that's when he realized what happened.

"You did this?" He looked at her.

She nodded, blushing a little. "I always thought you were a beautiful person, inside and outside. I saw you laying down and you looked so peaceful and ethereal... I couldn't not do it..." She explained.

He blushed, and a big smile plastered in his face as he giggled.

She got up and helped him stand up. "What's the problem?" She asked.

He looked at her, and kissed her lips tenderly, a warm fuzz filling his heart. "Oh you didn't have to... I mean, you're always putting up with my crap every time I'm like this... And that just..."

"Proves how much I love you." She cooed as she hugged him tightly.  
He nodded as he nuzzled in the crook between her neck and her shoulder.

"Now, how about we go inside and do something the two of us?" Heather offered Roger as she wrapped an arm around his neck.

He laughed in response as he looked up at her.

"Only if you don't tickle me!" He warned her jokingly.

She laughed in response. "You will never know!"


End file.
